


non-vintage champagne

by moonrocks



Series: you were the best of all my days [1]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol, Ficlet, M/M, Memories, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrocks/pseuds/moonrocks
Summary: Kendall returns to the pub to reminisce.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Series: you were the best of all my days [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906789
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	non-vintage champagne

**Author's Note:**

> Set during "Return" after Kendall visits the boy's house, but before he puts the money in the mailbox.

Kendall stares into the bottom of his fourth beer. Past the pissy liquid and the foam sliding down the glass like soap bubbles, he sees his reflection staring back at him, ghostlike and unrecognizable.

No one else recognizes him either. Not the woman, tweedy and familiar, who is walking to and from the kitchen, cleaning tables, talking to her husband. Not the patrons who are likely regulars, alcoholics, their haggard and whiskey-weighted faces pointed down towards the bar top. The last time Kendall was here, before the wedding, the pub had been empty. Yet, it somehow feels emptier now, two months later, the scar on his wrist fully healed but itching after his unplanned visit to the house. A song plays on the radio, intermittently interrupted by chatter, but the room might as well be silent.

Kendall takes another sip of his beer. Instead, it tastes like champagne, the carbonated tang reaching through his memory to burst against his tongue. Non-vintage, but more than bearable because of the company he shared it with. Excitement had snapped underneath his skin as Stewy rambled on about the bear hug, absently perusing a sticky menu. He smiled dismissively, picking apart the local cuisine in between comments about financing details and legal conditions. 

“Dude, is there anything on here _not_ stuffed with potatoes and seasoned with, like, nothing? Do they just use their imagination?”

Kendall laughed into his half-empty glass, his dread sloughing off his back like a skin he had suddenly outgrown. Now, there is only numbness, rain clinging to the nape of his neck, smiling faces from family photos already growing distorted in his memory. Kendall thinks about the ATM he passed on the way in, then pushes it to the corner of his mind where everything else lives. 

Stewy. Sandy. The proxy battle. The story. The tabloids. The boy. 

The article was probably Stewy’s idea: a minor alteration from the playbook they put together to damage Logan’s public image, swaying shareholders to their side. Stewy had witnessed the incident first-hand, the angle of his torso preventing Logan from coming any closer as the waiter tipped the bottle forwards too quickly, too soon. Meanwhile, Kendall stood silently behind Stewy, paralyzed by his father’s presence, his garbled shout cutting through the background jazz to swallow up the room.

A different glass of champagne, a wet sleeve, an NDA. The article had detailed it all with borderline libellous embellishments, reminiscent of how Stewy used to sensationalize anecdotes in college, either to impress the unsuspecting or make Kendall, who was usually in on the joke, laugh on the other side of the room.

Kendall doesn’t take it personally. He shouldn’t. Even with the issue of trust souring his insides, he knows this isn’t Stewy’s fault. None of it is.

Kendall takes another sip of his beer, then another. The alcohol bloats his otherwise empty stomach, reminding him that the last time he ate was this morning. His body aches dully as the room pulses around him, swelling and shrinking then swelling again like a leaking balloon beneath a streaming faucet. Across the pub, the bathroom door creaks open on unoiled hinges. Kendall feels a phantom hand close around his wrist, an impression of Stewy’s fingertips left against his bone like scar tissue.

Kendall had only drunk a glass and a half of non-vintage champagne, but he felt tipsy when Stewy latched the bathroom door, then playfully breached the space between them to pluck the baseball cap off his head. Kendall had laughed as Stewy turned it over in his hands, making a throwaway comment that Kendall no longer remembers the shape of. The hat fell to the floor. Stewy flashed him a smile, devilish, then pulled him in close to kiss him. 

But in the cramped space between the sink and the door, Kendall had wanted Stewy even closer, knotting his hands in the front of his overcoat until Stewy was pushing him flush against the tiled wall. Their mouths met, along with their breath, still heavy with laughter. Kendall felt the room spin. Blood rushed between his ears as his tangled thoughts turned to wispy cotton, dizzying and feathery like he was experiencing an intense headrush. 

Stewy held him, caressed his cheek, inched his knee forward to gently part his thighs, then kissed him again. It was a possessive kiss, one of ownership, one that told him Stewy thought he had finally made his choice. Kendall had thought so too.

Eventually, Stewy pulled away, running his tongue along his bottom lip. He picked up the hat and placed it back on Kendall’s head.

“Cars are still waiting out front,” he said nonchalantly. Kendall almost expected him to check his wristwatch. “See you back there?”

“Yeah, see you.” Kendall nodded, suppressing the insistent part of him that wanted to ask Stewy to stay. If only they could stall a few more minutes in the time and space before anything had the chance to fall apart. “Thanks, uh, for the champagne, bro.”

Stewy smiled. “You can pay me back later.”

They had looked at each other, a loaded pause forcing itself between them. It was a moment that could have been filled with something—parting words, another kiss, another smile—but it passed by untouched. Stewy unfastened the latch and left. Yet, Kendall had lingered, still tasting alcohol at the back of his throat. 

In the present, Kendall finishes his beer. He pays with his credit card, then finds the ATM. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is just one ficlet in a series of many hopefully.
> 
> Lemme know what you thought!


End file.
